


Rite of Passage

by ignitesthestars



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Family, Family Dinners, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignitesthestars/pseuds/ignitesthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annabeth and Percy have dinner with Sally and Paul for the first time after they get together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rite of Passage

“Don’t.”

Percy flashes a grin at Annabeth, and she stifles the urge to kiss him right there at the table by hitting him in the shoulder instead. He’s used to it; he doesn’t even flinch.

“Come on, Annabeth,” he cajoles. “What’s the point in having _sea_ salt if I can’t use my _sea_ powers to pass it across the table?”

“Because the last time you tried that little trick, we had to plaster up the hole you left in the wall.” It’s Annabeth’s turn to grin as Sally Jackson pokes her son in the other shoulder, before piling more vegetables on his plate.

Percy makes a face, but knows better than to say anything. Annabeth can see the thought process stamped across his face. Maybe he could take one of them in a battle of wills, but never both. It’s safer to just eat his peas and avoid the glaring.

Across the table, Paul clears his throat. “That said, would someone mind actually passing the salt?”

That grin of Percy’s comes back, and Annabeth quickly rescues the salt shaker and passes it over to Paul before her boyfriend does something stupid like try to throw it. She wouldn’t put it past him, honestly.

And if she has to focus on her plate for a second or two after that thought (because the word _boyfriend_ still elicits shivers of both panic and delight from her, lately), well. No one has to know why.

Except for maybe Percy, who has found her hand under the table and threaded their fingers together, squeezing briefly. She’s still not sure how he became so comfortable so suddenly with little touches like that, the small intimacies that build up into an actual relationship that she’d spent months (years) convincing herself not to want (and that she wouldn’t have, once she’d found herself unable to stop the wanting).

Maybe it’s relief. Or years of pent up emotion in his stupid seaweed brain finally able to express itself. Or maybe she needs to just stop thinking about all of this and enjoy his hand in hers and the dinner that Sally has cooked, and the fact that she apparently hasn’t realized the significance of it yet.

“Percy,” Annabeth murmurs, hoping the two adults won’t hear.

“Mm-hmm?”

“I need both hands to eat.”

“Wh – oh.” He flushes slightly, and she can’t help but smirk. If there’s one thing she enjoys still, it’s throwing him off guard. “Sorry.”

He lets go, and she rolls her eyes, kicking him in the shin because _obviously_ he doesn’t have to apologise. She’s so caught up in him that she almost misses the way Sally and Paul exchange smiles at the other side of the table, but she’s Annabeth Chase, and she doesn’t miss anything.

Okay, and maybe _they_ have noticed that this is actually the first time that Annabeth and Percy have had more than two seconds to sit down together with his family and eat dinner since the Battle of Manhattan. And they’re definitely aware of the fact that certain changes have taken place in the relationship between the two teenagers since then – Annabeth thinks she might have actually cracked a rib from the strength of Sally’s hug.

Although that might have been relief at seeing her alive, rather than excitement of the fact that Annabeth was making out with her son, now. It was hard to tell with Sally, sometimes.

The _point_ is that neither Percy’s mom or his step-dad are mentioning anything. And it’s…nice. Annabeth eats her own peas (and everything else), occasionally nudging Percy under the table with her knee and unable to stop herself from smiling when he does it back. She’s ninety-nine per cent sure that Sally rolls her eyes at Paul at least once, but she doesn’t care. The awkward shift that she’d been expecting, that hyper-awareness of everything that’s changed in the past few weeks – it’s not there.

This is just dinner with the Jackson family. Something that Annabeth has done countless times before, a place where she feels more comfortable than in her own home, at the dinner table that is supposed to be hers. Her and Percy’s new relationship hasn’t changed any of that.

“Now,” Sally announces when everyone else is finished and Percy is reaching for thirds. “Don’t think I don’t know the significance of this occasion.”

Annabeth stills, uncertain. Hand outstretched for more chicken, Percy pauses as well, staring at his mother. And things had been going so _well_.

But there’s a wicked little smile on Sally Jackson’s face, one that only highlights the features she shares with her son. “Paul, if you would do the honours?”

“What honours?” Percy chokes out, reaching for Annabeth’s hand again as his step-father gets up from the table with a quiet chuckle.

Sally shows no mercy, telling him to wait and see as Paul returns from the lounge with…

A photo album?

“Oh, no.” Percy makes a sound that Annabeth is sure she’s only heard from him in those rare moments (not rare enough) when she’d thought that he was actually dying. “Please don’t.”

He gets summarily ignored. Sally turns her full attention on Annabeth, who is trying to decide if she’s more curious or terrified by this sudden change of events. She doesn’t know how to family, isn’t sure how the relationship thing goes, so she hasn’t quite twigged onto what’s going on here. Percy is not having this problem, imitating a dying seal next to her.

“Seeing as we are celebrating a new stage in Percy’s life,” Sally starts happily, taking the album from her husband. “It only makes sense that we take a look over some of the old ones. Come here, Annabeth, please.”

It clicks then, exactly what is going on. She snorts, which is probably unladylike, but who at the table right now cares? And then she giggles, untangling her fingers from Percy’s death grip and standing so she can move around the table.

“Traitor!” Percy accuses, covering his face with both of his hands.

Annabeth ignores him. She’s good at that.

“This is a rite of passage that every young man has to go through, Percy,” Paul informs his step-son, mock solemn.

Percy’s fingers move, one sea-green eye somehow managing to convey all the impotent rage in the world. But there’s no real anger there, no bitterness about Paul stepping in. If anything, Percy doesn’t even seem to recognise that some teenagers might have resented the input.

“I don’t remember seeing any of your baby photos,” he protests.

Paul grins. “The perks of no longer being a young man.”

Sally, meanwhile, has wrapped her arm around Annabeth’s shoulder, drawing her in close. Close, a word and a concept that Annabeth has spent most of her life struggling with, and can’t quite seem to remember why in this single instant.

She thinks she understands why even Poseidon would break an oath for someone like Sally Jackson. And she’s never in her life felt more grateful towards a person for just existing, because it’s that irrepressible quality that had brought Percy into the world, shaped him and made him into the boy that Annabeth has fallen in love with.

And a boy that apparently had a violent objection to wearing pants as a toddler. Percy ends up under the table with his hands firmly over his ears as Sally regales both Annabeth and Paul with the stories behind each photo. All in all, it’s a pretty successful evening.


End file.
